Origins
by Daedric Princess of Madness
Summary: AU. Before Ostagar and Darkspawn. Before becoming Grey Wardens. On the brink of destruction. Covers Dwarf Commoner, Human Noble, City Elf, Mage, Dalish Elf and Dwarf Noble.


**A/N: Because I'm currently struggling with writer's block with my Elder Scrolls stories, I decided to tackle the Origin Stories from _Dragon Age: Origins _in an AU where all of my babies - I mean, er, Wardens, were recruited by Duncan. I may tell the adventures of my Wardens after conscription at some point in another fic, with the gang us Dragon Age fans are very familiar with, but for now I'll just write out these little stories. **

**The Dwarf Commoner is one of my favorite origins in the game - tied with Human Noble and City Elf, and I quite like Anta and this story based off her. I hope you enjoy it as much as I liked writing it.**

* * *

_**Brosca - Part One.**_

There were only a few things Anta knew to do in her life. The first was to stay alive at all costs, and during the first few years in her life, this proved difficult as she and her older sister, Rica, were streetsweepers. The memories of her childhood as she and her sister swept the Orzammar Commons, while the passersby looked at them like they were nothing more than trash. Because they were.

_Casteless. _Anta heard the word daily, from her sister, mother and herself. They were Casteless; in the eyes of Dwarven society, they were nothing.

The second thing that Anta knew was that she had to do whatever Beraht said. Beraht reminded Anta and Rica on a constant basis that he didn't have to take them under his wing and give them jobs, so they owed him and had to do whatever he said, starting by Rica - the prettier of the two, according to him - prostituting herself and becoming a noble-hunter. Anta, who had learnt some combat skills from her father when she was younger, was nothing more than a hired thug, who intimidated those who had some history with Beraht.

Today she woke up to a better breakfast than usual due to the money Rica had been saving from doing other odd jobs recently. Then, she heard Beraht enter. Anta couldn't miss it; wherever Beraht went, you heard his loud, obnoxious tone.

"You got a sweet look, something to light a man on fire, Rica," Beraht said loudly. "But you got to make it count."

The look on his face as he looked at Rica made Anta want to take her dagger she had strapped onto her back and stab him in the most painful way imaginable. But she didn't, because she knew that if she did, they would have no income, and they would all wither away. Rica glanced towards her, and Anta could practically hear her sister pleading with her not to attack Beraht.

"Please, Beraht, I would rather not do this in front of my sister -"

"And why not?" Beraht snapped. "She knows the slopes of the land, doesn't she?"

Anta gritted her teeth.

"I told you not to talk about my sister that way," she snarled. _You greedy bastard._

"You told me a lot of things," Beraht said smugly. Anta resisted the urge to take one of her clenched fists to his face. "Not even one of which meant more than a fart in the middens."

The crime lord didn't care about them, except for whatever gold they managed to obtain. Anta tried to ignore how the comment stung deep down, and still pulled the angriest face she could muster. Beraht obviously didn't care, or find her menacing, because he continued.

"Before me, your sister is just another duster. Now check her out!"

Anta didn't need reminding about Rica's recent makeover. She was still Casteless, and still lived in Dust Town with everyone else like them, but she wore expensive clothes, had her hair done up really nice and - she looked like a Noble from House Aeducan. Beraht boasted on a constant basis that it was he who was responsible for buying all of Rica's new things fit for Noble hunting. It disgusted Anta.

"Braids down to here, gold capped teeth...she can even recite elf poetry and play the string harp. Every man's dream!" Beraht bragged, now wearing the most disgusting smirk Anta had seen on his face. "All she's gotta do is find a lord, squeeze out some kid that looks like him and we're all living the easy life in the Diamond Quarter."

Anta couldn't help but mentally scream that her sister was a person; a Dwarf with feelings just like Beraht, perhaps even more so. Not a toy that he could play with and then dispose of. Anta opened her mouth to speak, but Rica spoke before she could.

"Please don't get involved, Anta," Rica pleaded. "You know that never ends well."

"But how much more does he think you can do?" Anta asked angrily. "You're only a Dwarf, Rica, just like him!"

"That's enough!" Beraht bellowed. "Your sister will do whatever I tell her to, even if it's marching up to the king and -"

"Beraht, please!" Rica pleaded. "Not in front of Anta!"

Beraht glared in Anta's direction, but said nothing.

"You just keep your head down and say 'aye' to any job I decide is low enough for scum like you," he said to Anta with a sneer, before turning back to Rica, who Anta couldn't help but notice was trembling. "In you, I put out coin so you can doll yourself up and get a bellyful of some nobleman's brat. Then you can both go free. And I get the chance to join the family and be called 'my lord' for the rest of the little prince's life."

_Unless she has a daughter, _Anta thought angrily. If Rica had a daughter and not a son, the daughter would be Casteless, just like them - as a baby was always born into the same-sex parents' caste. The thought loomed over all of them.

"What are you doing here, anyways?" Anta asked.

"I was here to check on one of my investments," Beraht replied. "And at the moment, your sister hasn't brought in much gold."

Anta made a move to open her mouth again, but Rica turned to her and shook her head. _No, little sister._

"I'm giving you a week, precious," Beraht snarled. "If you haven't found a patron, you're back to sweeping streets."

"But...I have," Rica protested weakly. Anta looked up, shocked at her answer. "I've met someone...that is, I didn't want to promise, but he seemed interested."

"Oh?" Beraht also seemed mildly surprised. "Is that so?"

"How about you get a ladder, so you can get off her back?" Anta yelled at him. "Leave her alone and just tell me my job for the day, will ya?"

Anta was angrier than she thought she was clearly.

"Your buddy Leske's waiting outside for you, girl," Beraht responded, "he knows what I need from you today. Don't even think about bungling this job. Your whole family's on loose sand with me right now. And I know you don't have anywhere else to turn."

The merchant then turned around and left they small house the Brosca's couldn't even call their own. Anta sighed, and then turned to her sister. Rica looked as if she was about to burst into tears.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Anta," Rica said, although Anta didn't understand why _Rica _of all people felt the need to apologize. It wasn't her fault they were Casteless and that the only way they could earn any money was by joining the Stonedamned Carta. If anything, it was all _his _fault.

Anta's father, Carden Brosca, left them a little over ten years ago for the surface, leaving Anta and Rica's mother, Kalah a bitter drunk and the two of them to fend for themselves.

Anta had _never _forgiven him.

"You don't need to hide anything from me, Rica," Anta said sadly.

"I always tried, though," Rica sighed. "At least I've kept you from buying your future with what's between your legs. But I should have told you."

_She should have, _Anta thought, but that didn't stop the fact that Anta already knew about Rica's prostitution, though she was afraid of bringing it up, due to the fact that it would undoubtedly cause an argument.

"Beraht's been warning me ever since two of his other girls found patron's at Lord Harrowmont's reception," Rica said. "They've been getting gifts already. Lord Rousten gave Elyse a surface-silk gown and she's not even pregnant. Beraht's getting impatient."

"And that bastard expects too much from you!" Anta snapped.

"And what other options do we have?" Rica snapped back. Anta was mildly taken aback. Rica was rarely angry with her. "Clean middens? Beg? Go up to the surface like your father?"

"Don't talk to me about him, Rica," Anta said dangerously low.

Rica shifted her eyes for a second.

"No, Anta…" Rica said. "Unless you find a way to save us all from Darkspawn and become a Paragon like Branka...there is no other options. We're pretty much on Beraht's leash for life."

_And the chances of me either joining the army or becoming a Paragon - let alone both - are zero. _

"I still say Beraht expects too much from you."

"But you know how desperate the nobles are for more children," Rica began. "They can barely field enough soldiers to hold the walls against the darkspawn. If I could… give one of them a son, the whole house would celebrate. And we'd all be raised up to noble caste to join the family.

"It's what Beraht's betting on. That's why he paid for my clothes, my voice lessons. He wants to share the reward," Rica explained. Anta didn't want to hear anymore of this; Rica was letting Beraht invest so much on her for the hope that she _might _bore a nobleman a son. _Might._

"I need to go before Beraht gets back," Anta said.

Rica smiled sadly.

"Stay safe, Anta," she responded. "I'll see you tonight for dinner."

_Whatever dinner is, _Anta thought as she stepped into the next room towards the front door. Her mother was asleep, her head lying across the table. Anta ignored her and made a move to unlock the door, which awoke her mother.

"Huh…?" Her mother slowly awoke and rubbed her eyes. "Whozzat? Why are you bothering me? Rica?"

Anta felt her heart sink. Her mother didn't recognize her as her child.

"Mom," Anta began, "it's me, Anta. Your child?"

"Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot!" Kalah Brosca screamed at the top of her lungs. Anta was sure that the whole of Orzammar, if not all of Ferelden, heard her. "You think I don't know my own kid?"

_Clearly, _Anta thought.

"Mom -"

"What are you doing here, anyways?" Her mother slurred. "Rica said you were finally making a use for yourself."

Anta shook her head. Her mother would never change. _The bitch._

"Doesn't it bother you that Rica has to whore herself out?" Anta snapped.

Her mother grabbed the half-empty bottle of beer she had been drinking and then took a large gulp, before she opened her mouth again.

"She's got the body," her mother said dismissively. "May as well use it before a couple of kids twist it out of shape."

Anta wanted to slap her mother and shout at her, make her realize just how they were living and what they had to do to survive. Instead she clenched her fists and gritted her teeth.

"Never mind," Anta snarled. "Sleep it off. Again."

And then she walked out of the door before her mother could utter another word in her direction.

* * *

Leske was waiting outside for her when Anta arrived, standing against the door with an anxious look on his face, until he turned and saw her. Leske grinned and Anta felt herself slowly grin as well.

"About sodding time," he remarked. "I was starting to think I'd have to burst in and get an eyeful of that spicy sister of yours. Ga-row!"

Anta was used to men lusting over her much older and more beautiful sister. Despite the hard life they had, Rica still looked beautiful with long, lustrous red hair (that was usually tied back for practical reasons), smooth skin and bright amber eyes. Anta had most of these characteristics as well. Same red hair, same amber eyes...but she paled in comparison. Her nose was too large in her opinion, and her hair was short, filthy and hard to manage. Not only that, but a profession as a hired thug wasn't exactly attractive.

"Haven't I told you not to think about my sister that way?" Anta said, though not in her most serious tone of voice.

"You're just jealous because you want the majesty of Leske for yourself, you shameless hussy. What do you say?" Anta gasped in mock horror.

"That when I saw your 'majesty', the sceptre was a little...soft," Anta responded with a smirk. She saw Leske's face turn bright red.

"I...kinda hoped you'd forgotten about that..." he said sheepishly. "But as much as I'd like to keep chatting, we'd better get down to business."

"So, who are we dealing with today?"

"Boss says we're out for a search and discipline. One of his smugglers is holding out on him. Name's Oskias, some surfacer. Beraht got word that he's been selling shipments topside that never make it to Beraht's ears down here."

So someone was selling out Beraht? Anta supposed she may as well propose marriage to the man as soon as she met him, if she could.

"He wants us to find the rotter and see what goods he's holding back," Leske finished.

"He steals from Beraht? I like him already," Anta quipped.

"Well yours will be a short and tragic relationship," Leske said. "Ready to show him some pain?"

"Yeah, sure. Let's show him what happens if you piss off Beraht."

"Poetry to my ears, Salroka."

* * *

The Dwarfs in the commons turned their noses up at Anta and Leske's appearance in the Commons. Some said nothing to them, but others muttered curses and other mean things under their breath. One woman who was carrying a child even said outright for Anta and Leske to stay away from them, lest they bring bad luck to her as well.

Nearby, Anta spotted a Dwarf male with dark brown hair nearby the bridge to the proving ground. He wore some of the most extravagant armor Anta had ever seen. Was he a warrior? Perhaps even a Noble? Beside him stood a Dwarf with red hair, wearing only a little lesser armor than the other dwarf beside him. The two walked towards the Proving, laughing like close friends. Leske tugged at her arm and they walked into Tapster's Tavern. The Bartender was viciously wiping the counter in front of him, until he looked up and saw Anta and Leske.

"No casteless," he said loudly and angrily, before pointing to the door. "Now git!"

"It seems you have an open door policy on martyrs though," was Anta's response, and she knelt towards counter.

"Who in the dust do you think you -" The Bartender's expression changed from anger to fear not long after he realized who Anta was. "Oh. My mistake. I didn't realize you were one of _his." _

"You didn't, huh?" Leske interjected behind Anta.

"Look...I'm not looking for any trouble," the Bartender said.

"And you haven't found any," Anta said, "so long as you tell me where a man named Oskias is."

The Bartender rolled his eyes.

"Is _that _what this is all about?" The Bartender pointed towards a younger Dwarf sitting at one of the tables. Anta took a step forwards and sat at the table in front of him. The Dwarf raised an eyebrow.

"Hey!" He exclaimed. "I was saving that seat!"

"That's real thoughtful of you, Oskias," Leske said, taking one of the other empty chairs beside him. "It's tiring work looking for you."

The surface Dwarf had a sudden fearful expression on his face.

"How...how do you know my name?"

"That's not important," Anta said dismissively. "We're here to stop you from making a big mistake."

"A mistake?" Oskias shifted his eyes away from her slightly. "I don't know what you're talking about. You probably have the wrong Oskias, see. I just got here this morning. I'm usually on the surface and—"

"So you're not the turncoat, two-faced swindling duster Beraht told us about?" Leske asked sarcastically.

"I never said anything," Oskias countered quickly. "Beraht's got no reason to send you after me."

_A likely story, _Anta thought. Beraht could smell any trouble for him and the rest of his damned Carta a mile away. He had never been wrong.

"Then you have nothing to fear, right?" Anta asked.

Oskias sighed.

"I just want to make sure nothing does anything...too hasty."

"Of course not," Anta said, "this is all just a friendly inspection."

"Making sure you didn't _accidentally _pocket any possessed lyrium," Leske added, eyeing Oskias's bag.

Oskias shifted his eyes again.

"Look, I-I always been loyal to Beraht. He's been good to my family; I-I know how much I owe him."

"I know," Anta responded, "but we need to be sure."

Leske muttered something about checking Oskias's bag, that was on the floor beside him. Anta watched as her friend knelt down and started unbuttoning the bag. Oskias let out a yelp, and looked towards Anta.

"Wait!"

"Spare me your excuses," Anta snapped. She had had enough of the Surfacer's stalling. This needed to be done.

"I...I do have some lyrium," Oskias admitted. _Now he starts talking. _"It's just ore. I made a side deal with one of the mining families. If it worked out, I was going to bring Beraht his cut, swear. I - I'd be crazy not to -"

"Suicidal, one might say," Leske said sarcastically.

"How much do you have?" Anta inquired.

"Just twenty five sovereigns worth," the surfacer said meekly.

_Twenty five sovereigns? _The words echoed in Anta's mine for about a minute or two, at least. It may not be much money by the Noble's standards, but to her it was enough to get her - and Rica - out of Dust Town.

"Most of that's with my buyers on the surface," Oskias began explaining. "I just picked up a few nuggets down here. If I were to… maybe give you a piece, that's a lot of coin. Could you, uh, forget to mention this to Beraht?"

The words "gold" and "freedom" rang in Anta's head. She told herself that she shouldn't get her hopes up. That it was a bad idea, but..._maybe…_

"I'm listening," Anta said.

* * *

As far as Beraht would be concerned, Oskias was dead, so the Surfacer decided that he should go back up to the surface and leave Ferelden for good, instead opting to leave for Orlais or Antiva as soon as possible. Anta and Leske turned the other way, until Anta felt Leske pull on her arm for the second time that day and drag her down a dark alleyway near the entrance of Dust Town.

"Are you breathing smoke?" Leske was angry. Actually angry. "Beraht'll _kill_ you if he catches you with his lyrium!"

"Too late for regrets, salroka," Anta said, "the bastard's probably halfway to the surface by now. Now, are we gonna sell the damn stuff or not?"

Leske raised his eyebrows. "We?"

Anta smiled. "You really think I wouldn't share with my best friend?"

"Well, that's another story," Leske responded, his eyes brightening. "Tell you what, cut me fifty and I'll take you to Olinda. She'll pay us and she won't tell Beraht. She refuses to work with the old man."

"Then we have ourselves a deal, my friend."

Olinda was an older Dwarf - perhaps a bit younger than Anta's mother - who got along well enough with Leske, even though she told him off for flirting with her, as was classic for him to do. The two walked away with thirty silvers and a sovereign each. It was less than Anta had expected, but a Casteless had to take anything they could get their hands on.

After that, they went to see Beraht, who was standing beside his second, Jarvia. There were rumors that Beraht and Jarvia were lovers, but Anta didn't know - or care - if it was true. All she knew was that Jarvia was the most powerful Casteless in the city and a complete bitch to the rest of them. She watched Leske and Anta with her steely eyes, as did Beraht.

"It's about time you two showed up," he snorted. "So what happened with Oskias?"

"He was smuggling lyrium out of Orzammar," Anta replied. "Had some contacts in the Miner caste. And no, he didn't say who."

"I see," Beraht said slowly. Anta felt her heart pound in her chest. _He doesn't believe us. _"Did he have anything on him?"

"No," Anta replied quickly. _Perhaps a bit too quickly. _

"And Oskias himself?"

"Dead," Anta and Leske said at the same time, before exchanging blank looks. Beraht raised his eyebrows, and then pulled a smug grin.

"Interesting," the crime-lord said. "Seeing how my cousin was at Tapster's Tavern this afternoon…"

Anta felt her heart pound again. _That's just great. We're going to get killed._

"And he says he saw something change hands between you and Oskias and then the duster sodding stood up and walked out on his own two feet!" Beraht slammed one of his fists on the counter beside him. He turned towards Jarvia, who was smirking slightly. _The bitch, _Anta thought. The two hated each other and there was nothing that could change that. "Does that sound like what I asked? Jarvia, what does that sound like to you?"

"Sounds like some jumped-up face-brands thought they could take a bribe and let him walk free," Jarvia said smugly. If it was under other circumstance, Anta might have vomited. "That's just not right."

_You're branded just like us, you evil bitch! _Anta thought angrily. Jarvia was asking for a knife to the throat, and Anta hoped one day someone would give it to her.

"The lady says it's not right," Beraht said. "You wouldn't disagree with a lady, would you?"

Anta rolled her eyes.

_Lady? Yeah, that seems accurate...NOT!_

"I'm not stupid enough to kill Oskias in public," she snapped.

"Right, I mean, no one's gonna say spit to you, Beraht, but we can't move that free. We needed to get Oskias somewhere private. We took him to the lava sinks behind the mines. You won't be seeing him again," Leske piped up, in a very sincere voice at that. Anta hadn't expected Leske to come up with a story that quickly, if at all.

"Hmm. I don't like you making me look weak… but it's smart to try to keep the Sword Castes from asking questions," Beraht smirked. "That's why I like you two."

_Too bad I don't like him, _Anta thought.

"Now, I got something else for you. Make some use of your… unique skills."

"What would that be?" Anta asked.

"The Warrior Caste is hosting a Proving today," Beraht said. This piqued Anta's interest; a proving was usually held on a special event. "It is in honor of Torgan Aeducan being named commander of Orzammar's armies."

Anta felt her eyes widen. _Torgan Aeducan? The King's son? _She may be casteless, but she knew enough about the royal family to know that Torgan Aeducan of House Aeducan was a young man that was respected by Orzammar's people - including her own.

"All the best fighters, last man standing—you know the sort of thing," Beraht continued. "They're also showing off for some Grey Warden who's looking for candidates to drag off to a life of eternal glory. Now, it's not often we get every name fighter in Orzammar lined up like that, and I have certain acquaintances who… take an interest in this sort of thing."

_Grey Warden? _Anta thought. Now that was something she had never heard of. Either that, or she was too stupid to remember.

"So we're gambling on the provings?" Leske asked.

"Exactly," Beraht replied. "There's a lot of coin to be made when people get the fever up. Favored fighter's an officer named Mainar, veteran of four darkspawn campaigns. Everd's a long-shot, just got back from a Deep Roads offensive. Some young buck who has all the ladies drooling. I've got a lot of money riding on him. Mine and other people's. I expect to see that eight-to-one payoff. Understand?"

"Crystal," Anta said.

"The fight only gets announced to contestants themselves… to prevent illegal gambling. So first, you'll have to find Everd, see who he's fighting, and when," Beraht picked up a small, clear bottle from the counter and handed it to Anta. "When the name Mainar comes up, I want you to slip this drug into the bastard's water. It'll slow his reflexes, just enough to take the edge off, not enough to show. But it wears off quickly, so don't use it until just before his fight."

Anta nodded, and took the bottle before stuffing in her pocket.

"You'll get a pass to enter the Proving Ground tomorrow at ten; the first fight is at noon," Beraht explained. That meant they only had a couple of hours to find Everd.

"C'mon, Anta," Leske said, "let's go."

"Wait a second, Brosca," Beraht said. Anta gestured for Leske to go ahead without her. He nodded slowly, and went out the door, leaving Anta with Beraht and Jarvia, who was giving her the worst glare yet.

"Don't even _think_ about screwing this up, Brosca," Beraht said in a dangerously low voice. Anta opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it after she realized just how serious Beraht was. "When I say I have coin on this, I'm not talking about some pittance, like the value of your life. If I don't see Everd's name on the winner's sheet, you'd better make sure I never see you two, or your sister, ever again."


End file.
